On the Trail Poachers Who Illegally Snare the Nation's Endangered Songbirds.

A hidden mist net in a field
Trapping and selling rare birds is a high-profit, low-risk venture for some.

The conservationist's gaze sweeps over vast expanses of tall grassland, searching for signs of life in the pre-dawn darkness.

He utters a muted voice as the team seeks a spot to hide in the grasslands. In the distance, the sprawling city of Beijing has yet to wake. As we wait, we hear only the sound of breathing.

And then, as the sky begins to brighten ahead of sunrise, we hear footsteps. Illegal trappers are present.

Snared

Across the heavens, a multitude of winged travelers, some tiny enough that they could rest in the palm of your hand, are traveling to the south for winter.

They have taken advantage of the long summer days in Siberia, or Mongolia, eating insects and fruit. As the year nears its end and icy winds bring the early cold of winter, they journey to warmer places to nest and feed.

The nation hosts more than 1,500 bird species, accounting for 13% of the planet's species – more than 800 of those are birds that migrate. Four of the nine major paths they follow intersect in China.

This particular field where we were, on the fringes of the Chinese capital, is an oasis for small birds – any further and the urban landscape offer few options to rest among forests of concrete.

It is also an oasis for the poachers and their "mist nets", so thin you can almost miss them.

A net we almost encountered was stretched across a large section of the field and held up with wooden sticks. In the middle, a small finch was struggling frantically to free his legs, but the more it moved, the more its feet got ensnared.

This was a meadow pipit, a species under protection in China, and an important "indicator species" – which signifies if its numbers are thriving, so is its ecosystem.

Pursuing the Poachers

This activist, carries out this mission for free using his own savings. He has forgone many sleeping hours to set songbirds free, and he has spent the last decade urging the police in Beijing to take this crime seriously.

"In the early days, authorities were indifferent," he says.

So he gathered a team who did care and launched a group called the Bird Protection Unit. He held community gatherings and brought in the leaders of the relevant authorities. These small and persistent acts of persuasion seem to have paid off. The police found that catching poachers also helped in identifying other kinds of criminal activity.

"We found our objectives became somewhat shared," Silva says, while pointing out that implementation remains inconsistent.

An activist holding a rescued songbird
A decade of dedication has gone into Silva Gu's mission to save migratory birds.

Silva's love of birds began during childhood. He was raised in the nineties in a much changed capital.

He recalls wandering in the fields on the city's edges where he found birds, frogs and snakes. "But starting from the 2000s, the transformation was dramatic."

China's booming economy brought millions of rural workers to cities. This fast-paced development meant grasslands were seen as land for construction, not protected zones to preserve.

This shift shocked him. The grasslands receded, as did the ecosystems they sustained.

"I made the choice back then to work in conservation and I chose this direction," he says.

It has not been an easy life. A major Beijing's biggest bird dealers discovered he was under scrutiny by Silva and fought back.

"He assembled several of his accomplices who surrounded me and assaulted me," Silva remembers. He says he reported to the police but those responsible were not held accountable.

He has also lost his team of helpers over the years. This work requires patience and night vigils. Silva says few people are prepared for the challenging and occasionally risky job.

"My life is devoted to this," he says. "I treat it as a mission because if you want to address this major issue, you must commit completely. You can't do it part-time."

He says donations covers some of the costs – more than 100,000 yuan annually – but funding has declined because of the slowing economy.

So he has found new ways to hunt the hunters.

He studies aerial photos to find the trails created by the poachers. He maps those against the birds' flight paths and looks for areas where they may rest. The aerial views can even show netting setups which can capture hundreds of small birds at night.

A rare songbird perched on a branch
A Siberian rubythroat can fetch a high price on the black market.

"Certain prized species sell for a premium," Silva says. "In big cities like Beijing and Tianjin, those who want to own songbirds are now quite wealthy."

While there are environmental regulations in place, Silva argues the fines to punish the crime do not outweigh the potential profits of catching and selling songbirds.

Owning a pet bird was – and for some people in China, still is – a status symbol. This originates from the imperial era. Wealthy individuals would build ornate bamboo cages for their birds.

It's a tradition that continues mainly among older individuals in their later years. Silva says some elderly citizens don't realise they are breaking the law, or grasp that numerous birds had to die in a trap for them to purchase a caged bird.

"This generation didn't even have enough to eat in their youth. Now with some disposable income, they have adopted the practice of caging birds," he says. "The nation progressed so fast, there was no time to raise awareness about ecology. Once adults' values are formed, they're really hard to change."

Apprehended

On a long low wall in Beijing, a trader has several tiny enclosures with tiny twittering birds.

Another man stands outside a local market holding a bird cage covered by a dark cloth. He tells passers-by quietly that his songbird is valuable, worth nearly 1900 yuan.

This is a glimpse of an traditional side of the city where informal vendors have created their own market.

Elderly men with caged birds
A glimpse into the longstanding trade of wildlife in local markets.

The area by the river extends over several miles and on a sunny weekday morning, there were shoppers browsing everything from vintage jewellery to false teeth.

Information suggested that protected birds could be bought in a small park. It was easy to find.

Music was blasting from a speaker under the low trees where a group of elderly ladies were choreographing a fan dance. Nearby several men, all over 50, had congregated with bird cages – some had multiple in their hands. Most were concealed by dark cloth.

But today there would be no sales because the police had appeared. They were interviewing the bird owners and recording details. Defiant, one man claimed he was {taking his caged bird for a walk|simply exercising his

Christina Williams
Christina Williams

A seasoned gaming journalist with over a decade of experience covering online casinos and betting strategies across Europe.